When the doorbell rings at three in the morning its never good news.
Leon hunter was woken by the first chime. His eyes flickered o[en but for a moment he stayed completely still in his bed, lying on his back with his head resting on the pillow. He heard a bedroom door open and a creak of wood as somebody went downstairs. The bell rang for the second time, and he looked at the alarm clock glowing beside him. There was a rattle as someone slid the security chain off the front door.
He rolled out of bed and walked over to open the bedroom window, his bare feet pressing down the carpet pile. The moonlight spilled on his chest and shoulders. Leon was fourteen already well built with the body of an athlete. His hair, was cut short apart. His eyes were blue and serious. For a moment he stood silently, half-hidden in the shadow. Leon saw that there were two police officers seeing the police vehicles that had parked outside. The porch light went on at the same time the door opened.
Mrs hunter
No, am the housekeeper. What is it? What happened?
This is the home of Mr. Mark Hunter?
"Yes."
Could we please come in…"
And Leon already knew from the way the police stood there. Awkward and unhappy. But he also knew from the tone of their voices. They sounded like they were going to tell them someone had died.
He went to his door and opened it. He could hear the policemen talking down the hall, but only some of the words reached him.
".…a car accident …..called the ambulance…..nothing anymore they could do….so sorry."
It was only later, sitting in the kitchen watching as the gray light of the morning slowly through the West Clover town streets, that Leon could try to make sense of what had happened. His adopted father_Mark Hunter_was dead. Driving home, his car had been hit by a truck at old street and had been killed instantly. He hadn't been wearing a seat belt, the police said. Otherwise, he might have had a chance.
Leon thought the man who had been his only relation for as long he could remember. He had never known his own parents. They both had died in another accident, this time a plane crash, a few weeks after he had been born. He had been brought up Mark ever since he adopted him from the orphanage and had spent fourteen years in the terraced house in the small town of clover-town.
The two had always been close. Leon remembered the vacations they had together the many sports they had played movies they had seen. They had been friends. It was almost impossible that he would never see that man, hear his laughter, or twist his arm to get help with his science homework.
Leon sighed fighting against his own grief that was suddenly overwhelming but what saddened him the most was the fact that it was too late now despite everything. He had hardly known his father.
He was a banker. Mark Hunter was always traveling. A quiet, private man who liked good wine, classical music, and books. He didn't seem to have any girlfriends…in fact, he didn't have any friends at all. He had kept himself fit, had never smoked, and had dressed expensively. But that wasn't enough. It wasn't a picture of life. It was only a thumbnail sketch.
Are you alright Leon? A young woman had come into the room. She was in her late twenties with a sprawl of red hair and a round, boyish face. Kate Elena was Mexican. She had come o clover-town as a student four years ago, rented a room in the house in return for light housework and babysitting, and had stayed on t become a housekeeper and one of Leon's closest companions.
Leon nodded. What do you think will happen? He asked.
What do you mean?
"To the house. To me. To you."
I don't know she shrugged. I guess Mark would have made a will," she said. "He'll have left instructions."
Maybe we should look in his office."
Yeah but not today. Leon let's take one step at a time."
Marks' office was a room running the full length of the house, high up on he top--it was the only room that was always locked. Leon had only been in there three times and never on his own. When he was younger, he had fantasized that there might be something strange up there…a time machine or a UFO. But it was all merely an office with a desk, a couple of filling cabinets, shelves full of papers and books. Bank stuff that's what Mark said. Even so, Leon wanted to go up there now.
The police said he wasn't wearing his seat belt." Leon turned to look at Kate
She nodded. "Yeah. That's what they said."
Doesn't that seem strange to you? You know how careful he was. He always wore his seat belt. He wouldn't even drive me around the corner without making me put mine one."
Kate thought for a moment then shrugged, yeah it's strange," she said. "But that must have been the way it was. Why would the police have lied?"
The day dragged on. Leon hadn't gone to school even though secretly, he wanted to. He would have preferred to escape into normal life, the clang of the bell the crowds, and familiar faces instead of sitting here, trapped inside the house. But he had to be there for the visitors who came throughout the morning and afternoon.
There was a lawyer who knew nothing about any will but seemed to have been charged with handling the funeral. A funeral director who had been recommended by the lawyer. A vicar, tall, elderly-who seemed disappointed that Leon refused to cry. A neighbor from across the street how did she even know that anyone had died? And finally a man from the bank.